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Lincoln snorted as he stuck his hind end up in the air and stretched his front. He shook out and then met my gaze. A little sore still, but so much better.
I let out a breath. We should get you back. You shouldn’t be out too long.
Lincoln ducked his head down. Do you mind leading the way?
Of course, but let’s take it slow. Stay with me?
Lincoln chuffed. Always.
Lincoln and I set a slow, steady trot back through the trees. In retrospect, Lincoln hadn’t gone as far as I thought, maybe half a mile. It had just seemed like miles because he’d darted off like a bat out of hell.
We made it to the front of the house in no time. Mark came out of the house with a fresh pair of clothes for Lincoln, set them on the edge of the steps, and gave me a curt nod before disappearing back inside.
Lincoln and I shifted and dressed quickly.
The change back seemed to take a lot out of him. He was sweating again, and he looked shaky. He kept flexing his hand, but it didn’t hide the tremble in his fingers.
I handed him the boxers and sweatpants first. “Are you still doing okay?”
Lincoln stepped into the boxers first and pulled them up. “I’m actually pretty hungry. Do you think we could find something to eat?”
I nodded as my mind raced. It was early still. Mom wouldn’t have made breakfast yet, but I would find him something. “You haven’t eaten anything in days. Come on. Finish getting dressed, and we’ll get you something to eat. There’s always something good here.”
“Home-cooked?” His eyes widened, and he licked his lips.
I laughed. “Of course. My mom wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Lincoln gave me a tight-lipped smile as he took the shirt from me and pulled it over his head. “We haven’t had a home-cooked meal since my mom passed away.”
I frowned, my brows pinching as I gaped at him. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well after all. “But we had a nice meal multiple times with your dad and Mikey. Those were not frozen.”
I would never forget those horrible dinners. The food had been fine, but the company was horrid.
Lincoln gripped the handrail and grimaced as he stretched, lifting his other arm over his head. “Definitely not frozen. My dad would never do that. They were from restaurants local to the area. He had them delivered.”
I pursed my lips. “Oh, I guess I wasn’t really paying much attention.”
Lincoln shrugged. “It’s all good. Just not the same as my mom’s cooking. You know what I mean?”
“I do. No one cooks stuff like my mom does.” I reached out for him and took his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get you something to eat.”
I tucked my arm around his waist, and we hobbled up the stairs into the house.
Lincoln leaned on me as we made our way through the front room and into the large kitchen. The green lights on the clock told me it was still early, just before six.
Most everyone was still asleep at this hour. Patrol shifts didn’t change out for another hour, so we would have the kitchen all to ourselves, hopefully.
Mom made a big breakfast for everyone on the weekends. During the week, it was up to everyone to fend for themselves.
I pulled out a chair for Lincoln and helped him into it, then opened the stocked-full fridge and took a carton of eggs.
My mom had taught me how to heal. Cooking was more Erica’s forte. I was pretty sure I could make some eggs, though.
“How do you like your eggs?”
Lincoln sat back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. “However you like them is fine.”
I nodded and got to work pulling out some butter, a pan, and some seasonings before turning the stove on.
